


Freude trinken alle Wesen

by oddegg



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Erotic nursing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, michael fassbender continues to make me perverted, omg this was hard to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 12:19:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddegg/pseuds/oddegg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <a id="cutid1" name="cutid1"></a><a href="http://1stclass-kink.livejournal.com/6527.html?thread=9819775#t9819775 ">1stclass-kink prompt:</a> 'Charles and Erik inadvertently figure out that one of them finds suckling the other's nipples is comforting and arousing'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freude trinken alle Wesen

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Friedrich Schiller's 'Ode to Joy'  
> "Freude trinken alle Wesen / An den Bruesten der Natur" -- Joy all creatures drink / At nature's breast

The first time he noticed it there was a moment – just a brief moment, a mere heart-beat of time – when Charles found the realisation of what this is… disconcerting.

He has never been so glad that _he_ is the telepath in this relationship. Because Charles knows that if Erik had ever got the slightest sense of unease from him about this he would have pulled back and shut down tighter than any steel trap.

And that impression would have been wrong in any case. Because the confusion Charles felt was not really about Erik’s responses but his own.

*

Charles has always loved having his nipples played with. Having them twisted and touched, pinched or bitten lightly was exciting and gratifying, sending sharp arcs of feeling down to his cock.

But the best was always getting them licked and sucked, the tug of sensation softer yet somehow deeper.

Oddly, that was something he’d been more likely to receive from the female lovers he’d had rather than the men – there’d been one girl in particular during his third year at Oxford, Margo, who he remembered fondly could almost bring him off with that alone – so he’d been delighted when he found it was something Erik was willing to do in bed.

Not just willing, eager. He was amazingly good at it, with a wicked tongue, and he seemed to find it just as arousing as Charles did. Charles could feel the pleasure rolling off him when Erik on top of him, cradled amid Charles’ thighs with his mouth wet and warm on his chest, one hand thrust down between them both to hold their cock’s together and stoke them in counterpoint to his moving lips and tongue.

But it wasn’t just the pleasure that was rolling over him and mixing with his own that Charles could feel, he also sensed a strong, thrumming undercurrent of _peace/content/comfort/ **safety**_ from Erik that felt… not out of place, no. More like – like something clicking _into_ place. Like a piece he hadn’t even known was missing.

Before he could puzzle that out Erik gave a firm twist of his hand around their cocks and very gently held Charles’ nipple between his teeth and pressed his tongue hard against it. Charles’ orgasm hit him hard enough to wipe out any other thought from his mind.

*

But the next time it happened Charles wasn’t as distracted. So when Erik slowly kissed his way down Charles’ neck and chest, over his collar bones and across his breastbone to rub his nose, brief and ticklish, over the right nipple to make it stand up before softly putting lips round it, and Charles felt again that strange mix of arousal and _comfort/warmth/safe_ the word ‘nuzzling’ flashed through his mind followed swiftly by the word ‘nursing’.

And that’s when Charles had an odd sensation of bewildered confusion, because he knew at once that he was right and that that was what Erik was doing, that that was what this was to him, but what Charles felt about it is not anything he could have predicted, even though he thought he knew his own mind intimately.

What Charles felt was a sudden rush of **YES** that rang right through him to his core. What he felt was that this is something he wanted to give to Erik, that he wanted Erik to take safety and comfort in him, from him. Wanted it more than anything.

He put his hand to the back of Erik’s head and pushed his chest up and said on a low moan “Oh, _yess_ …”

And Erik paused for a moment; stiffened up for a half second, and then he relaxed back down again and – almost tentatively – sucked harder.

*

Then they spend some time in an odd place where neither of them mention it or refer to it at all but they do spend more time doing it anyway.

Charles didn’t know if Erik had worked out that _Charles knew_ , and he wasn’t sure if he shouldn’t mention it. For one thing, if he _did_ bring this habit out into the open then it would allow him to suggest that the practice did not always have to go hand in hand with sex.

Not that Charles didn’t like the sex – he _loved_ the sex – but he’d noticed they spent a lot more time on nipple play when Erik was frustrated with his training that day, or angrier than usual about something and Charles wanted to be able to use this connection they had to sooth him even outside their shared bed.

He thought Erik would like that too. Sometimes when the stress is bleeding off him in great crashing waves he acted like the only thing holding him together was this.

Like the other day when – after a bad night’s sleep and a bad day’s training and all of the kid’s seeming to make it their mission to piss him off during the day – Erik had been waiting for Charles in the bedroom and had pulled him in and grabbed him and hoisted him up on the dresser by the door, not even willing to wait to get him across to the bed. He’d pulled Charles’ top off him, ripping it slightly in the process, and pushed him back against the wall once he was semi-naked and almost dived his head down to get his mouth on Charles; wrapping his arms around Charles’ waist and holding on tight.

He only slowly started to run his hands over Charles and to rub their still-covered groins against each other when he’d calmed down a bit and presumably remembered that they were not yet acknowledging this as something that could be done on it’s own.

*

Charles still hadn’t worked out a way to tell Erik that it _was_ ok to just nurse when he wanted when Erik got injured.

It’s a training accident and not (thank _Christ!_ ) as serious as it might have been. Charles doesn’t want to think how seriously Erik could have been hurt (could have been _killed_ ) if Alex’s blast had hit him dead on.

As it was, when Sean gave a high shriek over by the house and startled Alex into half turning just as he let off a blast, Erik managed to twist and dive mostly out of the way but the whiplash tail end of it still caught him on his side.

He went down with a high, sharp cry and Charles sprinted over to him with his heart in his mouth, his brain one long panicked chant of _‘be ok be ok oh god **Erik** ’_. He slammed to his knees beside him and gasped out loud when Erik rolled over onto his back, face screwed up in pain and a hissed stream of German curses spilling out of his mouth but still alive, still breathing oh thank god, thank _god!_

They managed between them to get him upright and, with Charles’ support; Erik made his way back to the house on his own two feet. He even managed to reassure Alex, who had gone as white as a corpse and was trembling violently, that he wasn’t to blame.

“Accident.” Erik told him, hissing through gritted teeth as Hank spread ointment over the burn and bandaged him up. “Not your fault, Summers.”

Charles was glad Erik was capable of setting Alex’s mind at rest, because he wasn’t in any state to do so himself. His insides were still churning with adrenaline and he felt slightly sick.

He was still shaky even as he walked Erik up to their room and helped him into bed, and watching Erik as he lay carefully back against the pillows and seeing the discomfort he was in Charles suddenly decided that enough was enough. They both needed this.

He changed out of his own clothes and pulled on his pyjama trousers, not bothering with the jacket. Then he got into bed alongside of Erik, taking care not to jolt him, and reached out his arms for him.

Erik gave him a tight smile and said with grim humour “Nice thought, Charles, but the painkillers Hank gave me mean I couldn’t get it up even if I fashion myself some mini-scaffolding out of metal.”

Charles said quietly “That’s not what I meant.” and brushed a hand over his own nipple, lifted up the other to the back of Erik’s head to try and guide him down.

Erik pulled back with a look of shock and there was a horrible moment of tension where Charles thought he’d fucked it all up by breaking their unspoken agreement of deliberate ignorance and so he said, a bit desperately “Please Erik, don’t you want… isn’t this what you **need** right now?” Erik stared at him, myriad expressions of panic and shame and helpless longing chasing over his face and Charles said softly, intently “ **I** want it too. I want to comfort you, Erik. _Please_.”

And Erik let himself be pulled in.

*

After that it was easier. After that it slowly became something they grew more relaxed about, and did more often purely as a source of soothing comfort for them both.

It even became something they could have fun with, and laugh between themselves about.

One time, while Charles was lying back, carding his hand through Erik’s hair while he nursed and just enjoying the feelings of his mouth on him, Erik gave a small smacking sound and curled his tongue round the nipple he was latched onto and Charles had a thought and suddenly started laughing; silent chuckles growing deeper till his chest was shaking and Erik made a discontent sound as he was dislodged.

“What’s so funny?” he grumbled and Charles said with a gasp “Oh, I just thought of something!”

Erik looked up with a frown and Charles grinned down at him, “That thing you’re doing with your tongue? Curling it up like that? That’s a genetic trait!” he said gleefully.

Erik replied dryly “If you try to tell me it’s groovy…”

Charles was unrepentant. “Well it feels quite groovy from my point of view at the moment.”

Erik narrowed his eyes and then pounced on him, fingers tickling at his ribs and he didn’t stop till Charles was a gasping, squealing, shaking mess. Then he captured Charles mouth with his own and proceeded to made him shake and gasp in a different way.

*

So it became something that was special and theirs. Charles loved the deep sense of connection it gave them and the way nursing made Erik gentle and tender when he did it. He loved the profound feeling of _bliss_ that he got off Erik and the way he looked so sleepily satisfied afterwards.

Sometimes it was for comfort, sometimes it was for sex. A lot of the time it was a mixture of both.

But it was theirs and it was private; their own little personal ritual of joy.

It was nothing to do with anyone else

*

The only time what they had together came close to being found out was when Sean called attention to something even Charles and Erik hadn’t noticed.

It was just them in the kitchen, finishing off breakfast. Sean had been staring into space, half awake, but as he was sat across from Erik at the table it was Erik who was in his sightline when his eyes suddenly sharpened. He leaned forward and waved vaguely at Erik’s mouth. “That’s a wicked blister you’ve got there, man.” he said “You’re not working on a cold sore, are you?”

Erik looked startled for a second and put out the tip of his tongue to touch his upper lip. His face smoothed out into careful blankness and he answered casually “No. Perhaps I’ve been.. chewing on pens or something.” Charles didn’t think anyone but he would have noticed the tiny hesitation.

Sean looked at him in sympathy “Trying to give up smoking? It sucks, doesn’t it?” He stood up and stretched luxuriantly “That’s why I’ve given up on giving up!”

He flashed them both a grin and left, the whole incident obviously forgotten already.

Charles pushed himself off the counter he was leaning on and went over to Erik. He brushed his thumb over Erik’s top lip and said with a note of wonder in his voice “It’s a suckling callus. Nursing babies get them.”

Erik sucked his thumb in and held it between his teeth for a second, gave it a quick lick before letting go and sitting back, his eyes shining with fond humour.

“Sign of oral fixation.” he said. And he smiled up at Charles happily.

**Author's Note:**

> I had trouble with this one because, while I found the prompt very captivating trying to fulfil it quickly pushed me out of my comfort zone into the ‘?? um. wow. i honestly don’t know if i can write this’ zone.
> 
> So I did what I usually do and googled the fuck out of it. Findings were:  
> – That all the info about Adult Nursing out there is het based, so I had to fudge a bit.  
> – That there’s some incredibly bad poetry about nursing out there.  
> – That my brief desire to go down the wet nursing route was mainly to info dump research on male lactation onto the reader and not for the benefit of the story. So I scrapped it.  
> – That I find the idea of Michael Fassbender developing a suckling callus on his top lip _disturbingly_ hot. OMG, you have no idea how hot. Or how disturbed…
> 
> So… the internet is not the font of all knowledge, some people should have their writing privileges taken away, there’s no actual milk in this story, and I’m bigger pervert than I knew. We’ve learned and grown.


End file.
